where the wind is so peaceful now
by endless cereal
Summary: Sometimes, when the Fates are feeling magnanimous, life is a tiny bit fair. /oneshot, calypso/eleven, unbeta'd, for incendiarist who was supposed to beta this oops but i got bored


Hello, welcome to my story, _et cetera_, it's Calypso/Doctor and you should adopt them as your otcrackp, _et cetera_, reviews would be very much appreciated but I will mentally translate a fave or a hit as a nice big thumbs-up, _et cetera_, if it doesn't make much sense you're reading it right, _et cetera_, do not expect more because my actually writing and posting this is practically a miracle and this is only a ficlet—am I still allowed to call it a ficlet or does fifteen hundred words bleed into the oneshot category? O.o—, _et cetera_, please enjoy.

Also, as to the River/Doctor timeline, let's just say it's somewhere far in the Doctor's future snd leave it at that, yeah?

_Unbeta'd._

_This is a disclaimer._

* * *

_where the wind is so peaceful now_

_by_ **endless cereal  
**

* * *

_She was a child and I was a child,_

_In this kingdom by the sea,_

_But we loved with a love that was more than a love—_

_I and my Annabel Lee._

* * *

Its midnight when Hermes comes to her and tells her Percy Jackson's wish.

She knows that it's midnight—she _knows_, because time is funny on Ogygia, like a dream, but midnight has a particular taste to it that's unmistakable.

(Long after Hermes has left and time starts to move again, Calypso sits in her garden and cries.)

* * *

It seems like it must be every day that a god will come to her and try to coax her out of her prison. Her home. She tells them that no, she's fine, modern life after so long in seclusion would be too much, _please go away_, until eventually they do and the visits are less and less frequent and then, finally, they stop. She breathes a sigh of relief and returns to her garden, vaguely hoping that the Fates might send a hero her way.

(They do.)

* * *

He lands in her petunias. She's almost angry, but it's hard when there's a beautiful, fantastic blue box and a beautiful, fantastic madman to distract her, so she lets it go, for the time being.

"Terribly sorry," he says, with a kind of half-bow and a grin that's says that he's not so much sorry he landed there as he is sorry that her petunias landed there first. "I meant to stop by Orion's belt, but the old girl's throwing a bit of a temper tantrum at the moment, it seems. Unless you're having an alien problem. Say, you're not having any alien problems, are you?" The last with a glance around the island, as if just noticing that it was there.

"Just the one," she says, raising an eyebrow.

His grin grows to an almost impossible length, and he sticks out a hand to shake. "I'm the Doctor, and it's positively _wonderful_ to meet you."

His name sounds almost familiar, and she smiles in response. "I am Calypso."

She takes his hand and leads him on a tour of her garden, and he knows almost as much about her plants as she does.

That night she asks him to stay for dinner, and the next morning he takes her with him, to see the stars.

(She kisses her garden goodbye, on the petals of a yellow rose.)

* * *

She's been travelling with him for precisely eighteen days when she wanders into the library and asks him to tell her about his former companions.

"How do you know about them?" he asks, and she thinks that he might've shot a suspicious glance at the walls of the TARDIS.

"My silly Doctor," she says, a teasing smile on her face, "You're over a millennium old. No one can go that long without friends, not even me, and I lived on a deserted island."

The Doctor gives her that half-dead smile that he reserves for times like these, when he realizes that he's finally found someone who won't leave, or be left, or, gods forbid, die, but that she'll go on living long after he's just a story echoing in the ears of dead men.

"Tomorrow," he promises.

(But it's nearly two years before she brings it up again. Calypso, of all people, knows what it feels like to lose someone you can never get back.)

* * *

Calypso never can quite give up Ogygia. She keeps her old dress and sandals in her closet—they really do come in handy when he decides to stop by Ancient Greece, which happens surprisingly often—and sings the ancient lullaby that her mother used to sing to her to children on every war-torn planet they find. She thinks about her garden often. She's been collecting plants and flowers from different galaxies and keeping them in a nursery room in the TARDIS, in case they ever stop by her home for a visit.

(Part of her desperately hopes that they don't.)

* * *

The Doctor takes her to Manhattan sometimes, when he misses his Ponds and wants to leave them flowers or sit by their grave and talk to them for a while.

She walks through the city streets when he does this, to give him privacy.

(Once, she sees a moonlace plant in the window box of a ninth-story apartment, and smiles.)

* * *

They're on another one of those war-plagued, dictator-run hell-planets when she decides that she loves him.

Some lunatic woman has a gun against head Calypso's head, threatening the Doctor to kill her if he doesn't hand himself over.

Her face has been twitching with repressed laughter for a good nine minutes while the Doctor tries to negotiate, and when she finally lets out a giggle the woman is so angry—or maybe surprised— that she pulls the trigger anyway.

She notes a horrified look on the Doctor's before she turns her head to face the woman with an amused smile. "You didn't _really_ think that would work, did you?" And the woman faints.

She bends down to pick up the bullet and holds it half an inch in front of her face examining it. "It's some kind of odd space metal," she grins, "Not even half as strong as celestial bronze. Honestly, I'm the daughter of a Titan; they'll have to try a _bit_ harder."

She looks at the Doctor and realizes that he really _was_ worried, really _did_ think that she might die, for a moment (despite her immortality, the silly thing), and gives him a reassuring smile.

"My silly Doctor."

She wraps her arms around him and laughs, and soon he laughs, and by the time the woman wakes up she's tied up some twenty feet away from her gun and there's a pair of hysterical ancient beings in the corner.

(She looks into his eyes and he knows and she knows but it's really best not to say anything, not now, maybe not ever.)

* * *

Sometimes when saving the world gets a bit dull, they'll sit on the rug in front of the fire in the library and tell each other about everyone they've ever loved—he his companions, and she her heroes. They must have heard each other's stories a thousand times by now, but there's always some fascinating detail that comes up that was never known before, like the precise tone that Donna Noble would use when she would call him Space Man or insult him, or some witty thing that Odysseus had said three thousand years ago.

(Sometimes she wonders if he'll end up in her stories someday, or if she'll end up in his, but its best not to mention it, really. The thought of her leaving is too much for the both of them to bear, unlikely as it is.)

* * *

They attend the founding of Paris together and she decides that then would be a good time to kiss him for the first time, before Paris got a little too cliché.

He's only a little bit surprised, but the absolutely perfect amount of enthusiastic. She rolls her eyes and kisses him on the nose.

"My silly Doctor."

(Its a few hours later in the galley of the TARDIS when she wonders if she might have contributed a bit in making Paris the city of love. She's reasonably smug about that particular accomplishment.)

* * *

She runs into Hermes once, in some desert in Nevada.

He looks a bit shocked but shakes it off, asks her how she is and where's she been.

"Here and there," she says simply, and he raises an eyebrow but lets it go.

They chat for a few minutes before they Doctor sprints up and grabs her hand. "Terribly sorry to interrupt, but there are some very angry aliens chasing after me and we might want to go."

She runs two steps behind him a shoots a grin and a wave over her shoulder at a very confused messenger god.

(Later, when she tells the Doctor who he interrupted, he's only a little bit sheepish and entirely too smug that she came with him over staying with a god. "My silly Doctor," she says.)

* * *

There are other companions, sometimes, but they never stay long—at least, it doesn't seem long to an immortal. They all come, run, save, run, laugh, run, cry, run, leave, like clockwork.

The one binding factor in the lot of them is that they all love the Doctor, desperately.

(That is the one thing that Calypso undoubtedly understands, and she sympathizes with them.)

* * *

They deserve each other, Calypso decides, forty-three years in—she, who the Fates had been so incredibly cruel to, and he, who the Fates had blessed too much to bless those around him as well.

Because they were both so very, very lonely, and because they had both lost so, so much, and because he was her Ogygia and she was his Gallifrey, and because they were each other's Elysium. Isles of the Blest for the deathless.

And who needs the real Elysium when you can have a TARDIS?

(Her garden grew, wild and snarled, on her little home island, and was all but forgotten.)


End file.
